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The next thing I know, she’s bringing me a glass of champagne, and then she’s pouring what looks like fresh orange juice into the flute.
“In the corner is a robe. Please, at your own pace, relax, change, and when you are ready, your masseuse will be here.”
“This is where I’m getting the massage?”
“It is.”
Jacqueline presses a button, and the massage bed rises from the floor.
“This whole atrium is for me?”
“It is.”
“Wow,” I say, dumbfounded.
“Press the button when you’re ready.”
As soon as she leaves, I remove my clothes, and that’s when I notice there’s a locker door behind the robe.
I place my clothes inside the locker and put my robe on.
I take another sip of my mimosa, then walk toward the button.
I’m blown away by this place, and if I remember correctly from the sheet that I left at the table with my drink, I have a full day.
A massage, facial, and then there is a dress fitting.
Hair and makeup begin at four thirty.
Cain is picking me up at six.
The trouble he seems to have gone through for me to make this the most perfect day makes me feel special. This is an amazingly incredible gesture. The only problem with today is that I only get to see him tonight. This would be even more spectacular if I could spend the day with him.
I pick up my phone and swipe a quick text to him.
Me: This is a complete surprise and shock. Thank you for this special treat. You didn’t need to make this happen.
Cain: Making you happy is exactly what I needed to do. See you tonight. Enjoy.
Is tonight his way of sending me off with a proper goodbye? One last cherry on top to get me to write the perfect article?
No. This is more than that.
Regardless, it doesn’t change the fact that tonight might be the last time I see him.
I don’t want it to be. Maybe it doesn’t have to be. Maybe I could broach the topic of seeing him again. That’s what I want. I wonder if it’s what he wants. I can’t read him perfectly, so I’m not sure, but it feels that way. It feels like he wants to spend time with me. Why else would he have volunteered himself to take me on this amazing tour?
It could be because he’s the architect, and he wants me to see his vision.
No. No, it’s more than that.
Anybody here could’ve taken me on the same tour. But he wanted me to see it through the lens that he sees it. That’s why he asked me so many questions.
As I’m lost in my thought, the door opens, and a woman walks in, and I know it’s time for my massage.
I lie down on the table, and when I’m done, I hand her the robe, and she turns back around to start.
Hours pass, and I spent them sleeping and relaxing. I let all the thoughts I felt inside me drain from my body.
I didn’t realize how much anxiety I was holding over this article. How much nervous energy over this man I’ve gathered.
But as I lie here, listening to the soothing music and the soft sounds, I allow this paradise to suck me in, and I’m sad that I’ll have to leave.
After my facial and light lunch, I’m led in a clean robe to another room. An immaculately dressed woman stands in the center of the room with a rack of gowns beside her. There is also a very stylish older man in a suit.
“Hello, Layla. My name is Elise. I am the stylist here at The Elysian. This is Roger, and he is the on-site tailor. Mr. Archer has chosen all the dresses behind me. Pick the one you love the most for tonight’s event, he said, and he wants you to know that you are welcome to take anything you want back home with you when you leave.”
I refrain from letting my mouth hang open. What an incredible man. All of this is here for me. Then I see Elise reaching over, and she opens a chest. “He made sure to choose all the pieces of jewelry himself from The Elysian vault. Every piece he has chosen will work with any of the gowns behind us.” At this, I am left completely speechless.
I want to say it’s all too much. Because this isn’t normal. Who leaves ten gowns for a woman he doesn’t know and lets her borrow priceless jewelry?
I don’t voice any of this because maybe this is normal. Maybe that’s why there is a stylist, a tailor, and a jeweler on staff. Maybe this is how the people of this society live, and who am I to judge? Instead, I’ll enjoy it.
I take a step toward the racks full of dresses, thumbing through each piece, each more beautiful than the next.
